Reckless
by Giggle Angel
Summary: After dinner with Ginny's mother implodes, Ginny rushes off to her sanctuary: the gym. But when she makes her way back to her hotel room, she's surprised to find none other than Mike Lawson waiting outside of her door. This is a Bawson writing prompt that morphed into a multi-chapter fic. Let me know what you think.


It took everything in Ginny to walk, and not run, in the heels that she'd regretted the second that she'd strapped them on in her hotel room at the top of the evening. She made her way through the crowd to the valet desk to turn in her ticket. Not that she needed the ticket. The attendant knew exactly who she was, and was all too excited to be the one to retrieve the vehicle that the first female major leaguer drove to a dinner that was clearly cut short.

She waited outside so that she could make her escape the second the valet showed up with her truck.

"You wanna talk about it, Rookie?"

Ginny didn't have to turn around to know who had followed her out. The restaurant that Mike had recommended for the dinner with Ginny's mother was high-profile enough that guests only murmured their excitement without approaching. Mike was a regular here and unfazed, but Ginny could feel their eyes on her, could practically hear her name on the breaths of those who were still waiting in line outside. She was suffocating. Where the hell was her car!

Mike waved at the fans casually as he approached her, and kept a professional distance once he reached her.

"I'm pretty sure my leaving was proof that I'm not really in the mood for conversation," Ginny replied, wishing that she had her mitt for cover. Who knew if the onlookers could read lips or not. She tried her best to keep her expression impassive despite the frustrated tears that were burning the backs of her eyes. She cleared her throat and fiddled with her purse to give her hands something to do.

His look was firm but she caught the gentle glint in his eyes. "Look, we both know that you're strong. I just wanted to let you know that you don't have to be strong alone." He straightened his back and stroked his beard, eliciting a faint smile from Ginny. "Am I clear, Baker?"

"Crystal, Old Man."

"That you?" Mike asked, referring to the shiny, black F-150 that had just made its way to the curb directly behind Ginny. Mike had never seen a more fitting pair. The Ford was a perfect reflection of the Padres' newest player –reliable, powerful…beautiful.

"Yeah," Ginny replied softly. Despite her best efforts, Mike still caught that hint of something in her tone that lingered just under her surface. That something that suggested that this truck was more than just a vehicle to her.

Mike lingered as the attendant handed Ginny her keys, and struggled –and failed— to not laugh as she shuffled out of her pumps and climbed into the truck, tossing her heels into the passenger seat.

"Get home safe, Rookie," he called. She nodded him off with a smile, and Mike watched her pull off before heading back into the restaurant.

Ginny drove the speed limit with her left leg perched under her raised elbow and her music blaring the entire way. Despite the slight lowering of her blood pressure thanks to Mike, she still felt like she was drowning. She should've known better. She should have rescheduled with her mother. She should have spent this time watching film and prepping for her first All-Star game instead of diving headfirst into family drama.

She parked in her reserved space and pulled her heels back on, preparing herself for any cameras that might be lying in wait. She grinned courteously at the occasional gasps and the few, sporadic flashes, and went to her room as quickly as the elevator would allow so that she could get changed and head to the gym. She was thankful for the sign on the fitness center door that explained that the space was reserved for athletes during All-Star weekend. The last thing that she wanted was to run into a fan in the one place that she could consistently find peace.

She limited her workout to just an hour-long session so that she could spend the rest of her night reviewing her opponents before her curfew. But when she made it back to her room drenched in sweat and finally feeling like the weight of the night had been lifted, she was surprised to find Mike Lawson sitting outside of her door. He hopped up when he saw her and grimaced. She could hear his back pop from down the hall.

"I didn't just spend half an hour giving you a pep talk through the door," he said not-so-casually."

Ginny attempted to hide how stunned she was, but came up short. She scanned up and down the hallway out of habit, but they both knew that their teammates were out on the town, and that security was put in place to prevent civilians or paparazzi from getting too close. Pulling her card key out of her phone case sleeve, Ginny opened the door and held it open for Mike. He hesitated for just a second before following her in.

"You could've called," she said, unleashing her damp curls from the ponytail that she'd whipped them up in before her workout.

"I did. It kept going to voicemail. My feelings are still hurt, just in case you were wondering."

"You're a big boy. You can handle it," Ginny said, fully aware that she'd put her phone on "Do Not Disturb" the second that she'd left the restaurant. "What's that?" Ginny had finally acknowledged the heavenly smell drifting from the large paper bag that Mike was holding.

Mike held it behind his back. "You skipped dinner so I thought that I'd bring you something. But since you decided to ignore my calls, I'm not sure that you deserve it now."

Ginny tried to peek behind Mike's back, but he turned. She pouted up at him. "At least let me see what it is."

"Nice try, Roo—"

Ginny pressed against Mike and snatched the bag before he could react. Damn she was fast.

"You were saying?" Ginny teased. She was already working her way through the contents of the bag while Mike tried to regain his composure…and his pride.

He scoffed. "What did you do after you stormed off—run a marathon? How is this much sweat even possible?" he asked, gesturing between her body and his stained shirt. "Go clean up while I reheat your dinner."

Mike waited until Ginny disappeared into the bathroom before pre-heating the oven and slipping the slices of cake into the fridge. As the food warmed, Mike wondered for the hundredth time whether this was appropriate behavior. At some point he knew that he would have to stop lying to himself, telling himself that he would do this for any of his teammates. He supported all of the guys. He looked after all of those twenty-three year old mooks like the family that they'd become. But Ginny Baker was different. She was an icon, sure, but she was more than that to this team.

More than that to him.

She had all too quickly become the sole sense of stability in his life, his legacy. In a matter of weeks, she'd managed to single-handedly rearrange the priorities in his life, and somehow he didn't mind that. He was just happy to have someone to talk to at night again.

Mike looked up. He was so submerged in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the shower stop. Turning off the oven, he rushed to plate the food before Ginny returned. He set the plates along the island just as she stepped in, still towel-drying her hair and dressed in just a pair of shorts and a loose-fitting Padres top that landed perfectly along her waistline. His body hummed as her scent overshadowed the aroma of the food that was less than a foot in front of him, and his pulse skyrocketed the second that he caught a glimpse of the faint outline of her raised nipples shrouded in the gray of her top. He looked away instantly, turning his attention entirely to the presentation. Her presence was more massive than she would ever understand.

"That smells incredible," she moaned. Mike bit his lip. What was she doing to him?

"Wish that I could say that I made this myself." He turned away from her, pretending to scour the kitchen for forks that he already knew were in the top right drawer as Ginny leaned across the counter. "But I thought that you might want to try the best lasagna on the west coast."

"You thought right. There are a couple of beers in the fridge," Ginny said over her shoulder as she took the plates to the couch and sat them on the coffee table. Ginny's nose instantly scrunched the second that Mike sat down beside her. "Ugh! I can still smell my sweat on you. I'm so sorry. Do you want to take that off? I could loan you a shirt."

"You know, despite my girlish figure, I'm going to jump out on a limb here and assume that I'm not quite your size," Mike quipped.

Ginny rolled her eyes and grinned. "I stole a few of my brother's shirts before my first game. He doesn't quite have your gut, but they might still work."

Mike's hand flew to his chest in feigned agony. "Ouch! Well-played, Rookie." He stood and started to unbutton his shirt. Ginny instinctively looked away only to realize that he had a thin shirt on underneath it. He tossed the dress shirt at her. "You can apologize by paying for my dry cleaning."

The laughter was easy between them, but they could both feel the undercurrent simmering just barely out of reach. Call him crazy, but Mike Lawson could have sworn that his rookie snuck a few peeks at the guns when she thought that he wouldn't notice. And Ginny Baker was well aware of the effort that it took for Mike's eyes not to wander.

"Now, hurry up and try the food so that you can compliment my restaurant choice for the night," he said, leaving his plate untouched while he watched her in anticipation. Mike stopped breathing as her lips wrapped around the fork. Chills coursed up and down his spine as she groaned with pleasure.

"This is life-changing,"she stated through a mouthful of pasta.

"Just wait until dessert."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really. But, first, the hard stuff."

Ginny bit back the sexual joke that was hanging on the tip of her tongue. She knew why Mike had gone through all of this trouble. "We're going to need more than just one beer for that kind of conversation. My relationship with my mom is…complicated."

"Isn't everything?" Mike asked, grunting at the first bite of lasagna. Ginny took a sip of her beer without taking her eyes off of her captain.

"The man that she brought to dinner tonight, he was the man that she cheated on my father with. I was in middle school the first time that I saw him at our house, holding her."

Mike struggled to stay in the present as he remembered discovering Rachel's affair. Ginny downed the last of her beer and Mike watched as she walked to the fridge for another.

"And the real kicker," she continued, "is that she always told me that I could be honest with her about what I wanted in life, but she couldn't even be honest about her marriage."

Mike set down his plate and settled in, prepared to listen as long as she needed him to. He could read the fire in her. He'd felt it before. The threat of tears clogged her throat, but her rage was too intense for them to fall.

Ginny scoffed. "She blindsided me tonight. Before my first All-Star game! And she had the nerve to say that they'd only been seeing each other for a year! But hey, at least this guy had the decency to leave his wife after a ten-year affair. My mom just waited until my dad was dead."

"Gin—"

Ginny stood up. "Don't. My father could be a cold man. I understand that now, but that doesn't make her any less of a hypocrite."

"She had a reason to stay. You and your brother were her priority."

"Then she should have told my dad. They could have fixed it!"

Mike shook his head. He was on the edge of his seat. "You don't know that."

"She could have at least told me," Ginny reasoned.

"She probably thought that she was protecting you by keeping it a secret."

"I would have understood!"

"Would you? You were so young then, Gin. Your parents clearly saw how focused you were, how special you are. Why would they want to derail you for their sakes?"

"How would you know?"

"I just get it, OK?"

"How? This isn't your life. You don't know me!"

Mike stood up, invading her space, but Ginny stood her ground. "I know because I'm in the middle of a divorce, Baker!" he exclaimed. "And if I would have pulled my head out of my own ass long enough to actually have kids, I wouldn't have wanted them to go through this process. Getting a divorce isn't just signing a piece of paper, Rookie. It's ending a portion of your life. It's moving out and alimony and paperwork. It's expensive and depressing and messy, and it can take years. Why would your mother want to put you through that?"

Ginny stepped back, realization strangling them both. "I didn't know how hard it was for her," she whispered, "or you." Mike watched her closely, choosing his next words carefully as her gaze tore through him.

"Baker, I—"

Ginny shook her head, cutting him off. "Tomorrow is the big day," she said softly. If your old ass can't be with me on the diamond, then can you at least walk me through the hitters tonight?"

With a weak smile, Mike pulled her into his arms before he could stop himself and before she could tell him off.

She'd blown him away once again.

He could practically hear her mind whirring as she tensed at his touch and eventually melded into him. She gripped his shirt, allowing him to be her anchor. It had a been so long since someone had been able to comfort her even though they both knew that there was work to do. She pushed against his chest just enough for her to be able to see his face without leaving his grip.

"You know," she said, "this doesn't have to be one-sided. You're free to unload your drama on me whenever you need to."

He chuckled, jostling her slightly. He brushed his lips against her forehead in the quickest of kisses before letting her go and heading towards the fridge.

"I appreciate that, Rook. I might just have to take you up on that offer tomorrow after I bomb this analyst gig."

"And after I blow my first All-Star game."

"I think that sounds like a date. Takeout in my room?"

"I owe you for tonight."

"Don't worry about it," Mike said as he pulled out the cake. "I know how much rookies make in this league. You shouldn't make any offers until after you get my dry cleaning bill."

Ginny shook her hand as if she'd been burned. "Damn, Old Man. Regardless, I'll take my fully-functioning knees and perfect, pear-shaped ass over your extra zeroes any day."

Mike could think of a few other traits of hers that he'd love to take. "You say that now. Just wait until it's time for you to start thinking about retirement."

She picked a corner of the cake off with her fingers. "How did you know that red velvet is my favorite?"

He shrugged. "Your mom told me. She also said that she was sorry."

"I bet she is."

Mike handed her the cake and pulled his own slice from the fridge. "She is. Go get a fork, you animal!" he said after she plucked another piece with her fingers and licked the frosting off. He wouldn't be able to keep his focus if he had to keep watching her lick icing off of herself without being able to taste her for himself. These were the exact types of thoughts that he was supposed to be avoiding.

They climbed onto the couch with their slices of cake and cups of almond milk that the hotel had provided (apparently the hotel had housed multiple clients with an intolerance for lactose) while Mike pulled up videos of the competition on Ginny's laptop.

He didn't flinch when she laid her head on his lap after the first hour of analysis. And she didn't mind when he slipped his fingers into her curls and rubbed soothing circles into her scalp. He was halfway through discussing the best way to strike out Diaz when he realized that she was snoring quietly against his thigh. The mixture of his voice, his touch, and sheer exhaustion had lulled her to sleep.

The captain pulled the blanket up higher on her shoulders, slipped an extra pillow behind his back, and whispered, "Goodnight, Rookie."


End file.
